Exile for Dreamers (35 page)

“At least keep the bread. You may feel hungry later.”

“What does it matter?” She rested her head on her knees. “I will die soon. I know because I saw him last night.”

“You can't have.” Incredulous, I looked about the cell as if he might still be here. “Ghost? Here? How? We saw no one coming or going.”

Without making an effort to move her arms, she turned her head and pointed a finger. “There, at the window.”

“It can't be. You must've dreamed it.”

She smiled as if I'd said something funny, but she didn't have the strength to bother laughing. “I'm not like you, Tessika. I have no dreams. Besides, did I imagine that new streak on my little peephole to the world?”

“You're only saying that to trick me into believing you.”

Except the window did look different. I hurried to the wall and hoisted myself up to have a closer look. “You put that there.”

“To what end?”

“How should I know? Another of your schemes.” I inspected the new mark and saw right away it wasn't a smear at all.

“Think what you will.” She leaned her head on her knees again. “It's on the outside.”

With my palm, I scrubbed a wider opening, which proved that someone had indeed cleaned off a small circle on the glass outside. The circle was just large enough to see into her dungeon. I let go of the sill and dropped to the floor.

“I told you,” she said without looking at me.

“Did he say anything?”

At least that won a sneer out of her. “Don't be daft. How could he?”

“Lovers have many ways of communicating. His eyes. A hand gesture.
Something.
He must have given you an indication of his plans.”

She just shook her head.

I slapped my hand against the wall. “What do you think his intentions are?”

“The same as they were yesterday.”

I roared with frustration. “For once, Dani, I wish you would give me a straight answer.”

“I have no answer to give.” It was just plaintive enough to be the truth.

“Then at least tell me what you decided about my offer to help you. Together we might be able to kill him.”

A shrug.

“That's it?” I wanted to shake her.

She didn't look at me. She swept her hand over the woolen blanket on her pallet, smoothing out the small lumps and ripples.

“Very well, have it your way.” I snatched up her tray and tossed the bread in her lap. “I've decided without you. In fact, I decided a long time ago. You may stop worrying. I'm going to kill Lucien.”

I tromped out, slamming the heavy door with a deafening clunk, and locked her in. Chains clattered as she got to her feet. “No, Tessika. Wait! You don't understand what you're up against. You cannot do this.”

I wheeled around and stared at her through the bars. “Watch me.”

“He's clever. And strong. Almost inhumanly so. He'll kill you, Tessika. Mark my words. Don't go after him, or you'll die.”

I ignored her and took off down the hall, charging upstairs ahead of Sera and Miss Stranje.

They pattered up behind me. “What happened? What's wrong?”

“Ghost. He's been here.”
At Stranje House.
I took the risers two at a time. “He knows she's here.”

And he'd violated my sanctuary.

I rushed into the gallery, plopped the tray on a side table, ran the length of the hall, and burst out the garden door. I dashed to the side of the house that held the dungeon, to the spot where Lucien had trespassed.

Breathing in short heaves like a furious wolf, I stared at the narrow rectangle of glass that looked in on Daneska's dungeon. Sera ran up beside me.

“Dani said she saw him out here.” I pointed at the smeared glass and started to walk toward it. “Maybe she lied.”

There was a chance.

Daneska was the daughter of lies.

And just this once, I hoped she remained true to her birthright.

Please be a lie.

Sera caught my arm and yanked me back. “Look.” She pointed at the ground and I saw I was about to trample a footprint. “And the grass has been flattened here, where he knelt and wiped the window to see her more clearly.”

“Then it's true.”

“Yes. I'm afraid so.” She scoured the ground for more hints.

I wondered—nay, I hoped—was this only a bad dream?

“I'm sorry, Tess, but this is most definitely a man's boot print.”

“How did he know she was here?”

“It's possible he followed Captain Grey and Lord Wyatt after they captured her. Or one of his men may have followed them.” Sera wandered to some nearby bushes and found a broken branch. She searched the ground beneath it, following what few scattered prints she could find. “Or he may have simply guessed this is where the captain and Lord Wyatt would bring her.”

“What of Phobos and Tromos? Why didn't they raise an alarm?”

She glanced sympathetically at me. “He lived across from Stranje House. He's familiar with the dogs. Not only that, he would've dealt with them in the past when he and Dani had their assignations. I'm sure he had a simple solution.” Sera searched through nearby bushes and lifted out a soiled oilcloth. She sniffed it. “And here it is. He came prepared. Meat.”

“Those traitors!” I spun around, looking for my shadow dogs. “I'd wondered where they'd gotten off to this morning. They weren't there for my run. They've feasted on his bribery and now they're hiding from me. As well they should.”

Miss Stranje had caught up to us. “You mustn't be so severe on them. They're loyal, you know they are. If they realized we were being threatened, they would protect us with their lives. But I'm afraid when it comes to fresh meat, they're easily distracted.”

Sera found more signs that had seemed completely invisible to me until she pointed them out. She spotted another partial boot imprint here, an overturned stone there, and another broken twig. “It is too bad we haven't had rain,” she mumbled. “It would be much easier to follow his trail.”

We tracked him to the secluded side of the house that hid our knife-throwing targets and the panel I used to slip in and out of Stranje House. She stopped and spent several minutes checking the ground around it and the edges of the small opening.

At length Sera stood and turned to me, her brow puckered and her lips pursed. “Do you think it's possible that when Lady Daneska lived here, she showed Ghost our secret passages?”

“Yes.” I swore silently. My fists flexed open and shut. “And for all we know, he could still be in there now.”

Miss Stranje's hand flew to her temple and she rubbed it as if in pain.

“Surely he wouldn't be that bold,” Sera said.

Miss Stranje glanced at me, her expression grim. “Bold? Yes. I wouldn't put it past him. He would take pleasure in the audacity of hiding here in the bosom of his enemy. But he's not stupid, and this may be too risky, even for him.”

“One way to find out.” I lunged for the panel.

She grabbed my arm. “That would be suicide.”

“Not with this.” I yanked my dagger out of the sheath.

“Even with that.” She gave my arm a shake. “Think, Tess. He'd hear you coming. There are too many crevices and corners for him to hide in those dark passages. That little knife is hardly enough to protect you against the likes of him.”

I clamped my teeth together. That was the second time today someone predicted I'd lose against him. I gritted my teeth and ground out, “But he might be in there … in my … my
places.
”
My fortress. He has invaded my refuge.
I wanted to howl my anger.

“
Our
places.” She held my shoulders firmly. “And if he
isn't
in there, you will waste a lifetime trying to prowl all those passages alone. No, we must approach this sensibly. Methodically. Rationally.”

She gripped my shoulders tighter and leaned close, bearing down on me with her fierce hawk face. “Mark me, Tess. I'll not have you dead. Do you hear me? I will not.”

I yielded with a nod and she let go.

“Have it your way.” I whistled for the wolf-dogs. “They'll run him down.” When they didn't come, I whistled again. “Where are those two beggars?”

Normally Phobos would have galloped to me in less than a heartbeat. But that morning he came around the corner at a weak trot, much slower than usual. He stepped sideways and lurched slightly, almost stumbling. Tromos followed behind him at a dragging pace, head down, and her tail drooping at half-mast.

My heart slowed almost to a stop. “No,” I whispered and knelt to greet them. Their glassy eyes confirmed my suspicions. “The bastard drugged them.”

“Good heavens.” Miss Stranje stooped beside me, stroking Tromos's neck. “It's a mercy he didn't give them enough poison to kill them.”

“He may have thought he did.”

“Poor Tromos.” She felt Tromos's nose for moisture and heat. “I hope her pups weren't harmed. Poor girl. She's lost so many litters. I'd hoped this time her pups would make it.”

“Sera, hand me that meat cloth. Let's see if they can find him.” I held the soiled wrapping up to Phobos's nose. He jerked away, recognizing the scent of the meat that had made him sick. “Find him,” I commanded. But Phobos sat down. I raised the bloody cloth to Tromos's nose, hoping she would understand. “Hunt?” I asked.

Tromos tilted her head and sniffed the cloth again.

“That's right. Good girl.
Helfeydd.
Hunt.” I used the old language. Her ears perked. “Find him.
Darganfydd.
” I pointed toward the secret panel.

She put her nose to the ground, scanning from right to left, and followed the trail back to Daneska's cell window. She yipped and pawed the glass. Phobos joined her then, and the two of them went to work sniffing Ghost's path through our grounds.

They increased speed and followed the scent away from the house and into the park. My heart clenched when both dogs seemed particularly interested in the tall brush next to where the trees gapped between Stranje House and Ravencross Manor.

“There are more boot prints here.” Sera pointed to the soil next to the tall underbrush. “These impressions are fairly deep. He must've stood here for a long while.”

I crossed my arms and pressed them tight against my middle, knowing exactly what Lucien had done. “He hid from this vantage point and yet he had a clear view of the guards making their rounds at Ravencross Manor.” I pictured him standing here, calculating when he might best sneak in and murder his brother. “I should go and see if Gabriel is all right.”

“There's no need.” Miss Stranje laid her hand on my forearm. “We'd have heard if he wasn't. He'll be arriving here in an hour or so. You must learn to trust him.”

“It's not him I don't trust. It's his brother.”

“I understand. But do remember, Gabriel defeated Lucien once. He can do it again if the need arises.”

Maybe.

“Defeated him? They nearly killed each other. If he sees Ghost, the shock of seeing his brother alive might very well unnerve him. Lucien would not hesitate to use that advantage.”

“Don't underestimate Gabriel. Besides, you cannot worry every time he is out of your sight. Life is fraught with peril. The mind can conjecture any number of deadly scenarios. What if he should fall down the stairs, or his horse throws him, or his ship sinks? Such speculations do you no good. We must deal with trouble when it comes. Not before.”

I turned away, realizing that every time Captain Grey left her, Miss Stranje didn't know if he would return or not. She tugged me away from the spot where Lucien had skulked. “Come, the dogs are heading toward the road. It looks as though Ghost left and returned to whatever hole he is hiding in.”

Phobos and Tromos stood at the gate, barking, wanting to get out and finish running him down. I patted them and assured them they'd done an excellent job. “You shall have extra bones today. And plenty of water to wash the poison away. I will see to it.” I scratched Tromos's favorite spot behind her ears. “The bad man is gone.”

But he'll be back.

 

Twenty-five

TRAPS

Miss Stranje spoke as if she read my mind. “We must carry on with our plan as if everything is normal. This may be our chance to trap him.” She hurried off to tell Captain Grey what had transpired.

The rest of the day we worked on preparations for that evening's celebration. Some of us labored on the warship, while others helped Cook prepare for the birthday feast. Jane insisted the cake be done to Mr. Sinclair's specifications, and she made the frosting herself.

That afternoon, after I'd taken my turn at guarding the corridors outside Daneska's cell, Miss Stranje sent me to cut some roses for the table. Lord Ravencross insisted it was his duty to assist me in this onerous task.

We strolled out to the roses and he watched the militia running through their drills. He chuckled at one point and shook his head. “They're a motley bunch. Mac is on the verge of pulling his hair out trying to get them into shape. He's determined to run them through twice as many practice formations as they did yesterday.”

I studied him as he spoke and wondered if it wouldn't be better for him to know the truth about his brother. Perhaps he could be persuaded to keep it a secret and go on as if he didn't know. Except that would be dishonest. Gabriel would never keep the title knowing it still belonged to his brother. If he told the House of Lords the truth, he would be forced to surrender his lands and home, his tenants would be in peril of a new overseer, and Gabriel's own loyalties might come into question. There could be a trial … and then his life would unravel.